


Ooh, Somebody Loves You

by kubotits



Category: Bleach
Genre: Bleach Kink Meme, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6601978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kubotits/pseuds/kubotits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo and Rukia have some rare alone time in the sleepy morning hours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ooh, Somebody Loves You

**Author's Note:**

> Another originally anon prompt fill on the now mostly defunct [Bleach Kink Meme](http://bleachkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/363.html?thread=37483#cmt37483), based on/inspired by a [JohannaTheMad fanart](http://johannathemad.tumblr.com/post/57015570089/rebloggable-requested-by-anonymous-mother-of). I may or may not have stolen something iconic from Star Wars to write this. Still unbeta'd, but there've been a few edits.

Rolling over, Ichigo absently wraps his arms around the warm body beside him. A small sound like a sigh or a mumble escapes Rukia as he pulls her as close as he can. Murmuring unintelligibly against his bare chest, she fights against her nature of snapping awake too quickly. Most mornings, she’s awake before Ichigo, to the point that he’s gotten used to waking up to an empty bed—he has to admit, he prefers this.

“Still here?” he asks softly, voice low and gravelly from sleep. She can hear him smiling. “You awake?”

“No,” she mutters, disappointed that it’s a lie. 

He pulls back just a little to get a good look at her, but Rukia buries her face further against his chest, snaking her arms around his waist and letting out little whining noises. Now fully awake and frustrated, she moans, “ _Sleeeep_.”

Chuckling, Ichigo kisses atop her head. “It _is_ our day off, we could sleep in.” Inhaling, he takes in that undeniable, fresh, beautiful Rukia scent, then sighs it out, too content. “That _is_ one thing we could do,” he adds suggestively.

Finally, Rukia scoots back, fingers dancing over Ichigo’s ribs like they’re porcelain piano keys, and gives him this _look_ that means everything between, “You’ve got to be kidding me,” and “You’re _on_ ,” that makes him laugh this shoulder-shaking, chest-rumbly _giggle_ that he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed about before she kisses the dip of his shoulder. He sucks in a breath, pushing his chest against her open mouth. Ichigo’s fingers tangle in her hair, sending tingles through her limbs to the tips of her fingers and toes.

Rukia wastes no time swinging her leg over his stomach. Sleep may still be groggily clinging to the back of Ichigo’s mind, trying to pull him down, but when she cups his face in her hands and kisses him so deeply, he’s brought to life again. Like _Sleeping Beauty_ , True Love’s Kiss, and all that. He rests his hands comfortably on her hips, guiding her against his thin boxer briefs. Her nightgown and underwear leave little to the imagination and yet—

“Not naked enough,” she mumbles against his lips, still a little morning-goofy.

He throws his head back into the pillow with a full laugh, simultaneously pushing her nightgown up her torso then over her head. Arms up, she tosses it off to the side, revealing a pink flush over her now-exposed chest. He grins up at her, hands traveling up the curve of her waist over her breasts as she leans into his touch. She has always been so sensitive, her lips falling into a perfect O shape when he squeezes with just the right pressure. Rukia then smiles so wide it almost hurts, leaning down to at least attempt to kiss Ichigo again, chuckling into his mouth when he gasps at her sudden movements against his already-hard cock. But he holds her up with ease, keeping her just close enough that their lips brush with a breath’s distance. He gives a little smirk, because he’s not used to being in control, but she doesn’t let herself stay fazed by her restricted access and simply swipes a tongue over his slightly swollen lips. He laughs because it’s just so her to be a sore loser; he should have known better than to play her game. 

He thumbs her nipples absently, letting her close before pushing forward to kiss her again. Before he leans back on propped elbows, he tucks her chin-length hair back behind her ears but it just skitters back, tickling against his cheeks. God, if it isn’t _silk_ between his fingers. His boxer briefs stretch at the thought of that softness brushing against his thighs as she sucks him off, accessing a memory _and_ a future hope. Rukia pushes her chest flush against his, hands migrating up from his pecs, to his neck, up into his hair where she holds fast. She starts grinding, but in this slow, methodical, torturously delicious way that drives him _crazy_. A balancing act in of itself, Ichigo leans all his weight on one elbow, the other arm reaching out to grab her ass and maybe—oh _please_ —quicken her movements.

She does, but for a moment, before she shakes her head away from his kiss and repeats, “Not _naked_ enough.”

Hastily, they push and pull away at the remaining under-clothes with some difficulty, still a little too giddy to be as efficient as they so need to be. Cloudy with desire, Rukia’s eyes meet Ichigo’s, crinkling in a smile. He moves toward her, but she pushes him back with the tips of her fingers. Humming happily, Ichigo complies, falling back onto the pillow. Now that Rukia is straddling his stomach, he can feel just the hint of wet from her core. Welcoming her warmth, he pushes up just enough to make more contact, but she pushes him down again, lacing her fingers with his.

Another mischievous smile gracing her beautiful face, Rukia suspends herself over him, thighs trapping both flanks. She dips down, her pink mouth enveloping a nipple. Ichigo can’t find his breath, staring up at the ceiling and trying to keep a grip on his self-control. It always feels like she’s testing his limits, taking him so close to the edge while knowing how much he can take and he _loves_ her for it. She knows him so well. 

Still holding his hands, Rukia leans back, this time on his cock. And this time he watches her with blown pupils, biting his grinning bottom lip as her eyelids slide shut in sensation. Bracing herself against his hands, she doesn’t let him enter her yet, though, rubbing slick up and down his length. 

Rukia lets out a labored breath, alternating between holding it in and panting. She isn’t just teasing him, but herself. She knows her limits as well, and she would have _begged_ for it if this wasn’t of her own devising. Finally, unable to wait any longer, she guides him inside her. Groaning, Ichigo arches his back, pushing further up into her. He stutters out her name plus some half-whispered expletives when she slides her hands through his fingers and drags her nails down his abdomen, grinding around him.

“Come here,” whispers Rukia, crooking a finger in invitation.

Ichigo sits up obediently, adding a little thrust with his momentum, leaning back on his hands. It elicits not much more than a small, surprised cry of pleasure and a cheeky smile. Then, wrapping his arms around her, he gets in as close as he can without kissing her, leaning his forehead against hers. As they are, their eyes are just about level now, the height difference nearly dissolved when she’s seated in his lap. They both can’t help giggling when Ichigo tilts his head back and gives her nose a little smooch. They keep grinning like a pair of idiots, missing each other’s mouths when they try to kiss, sucking marks into each other’s skin. 

This is _theirs_ , and theirs alone, these stolen, breathless morning moments. A pocket dimension of condensed time, away from the world of duty and honor, away from responsibility and danger: just them. 

The easy, lazy rhythm they fall into is disrupted when Rukia, tilting her head cheekily, snaps her hips against his. Their skin makes contact with a satisfying _slap_ and Ichigo gasps suddenly. Shaking his head with a smirk, Ichigo holds her even tighter, quickening their pace. Rukia laughs at how competitive he’s become, enjoying the ride. Every second of it.

Inexplicably, Ichigo suddenly wants to remind her that he loves her, he’s got to tell her how much she drives him wild, how he’ll never get enough of her, not ever—but she sees it before he has even formed the words in his own mind. 

“I know,” she answers his unsaid confession, beaming. The flush over her body makes her look like she’s glowing in the streaming halflight from their window, a sheen of sweat over her chest. She slows their canting hips just enough to usher them into stuttering orgasm, as he sinks to her shoulder, kissing her neck. She repeats, breathing out, “I know.”

And so does he. He knows what “I know” means; it means _I love you too_.


End file.
